Lucy touched Sebastian’s arm, but he’d already stopped on the steep, narrow path. A few yards above them, through a screen of trees, was the dirt road. “I thought I heard something.”
“I did, too.”
A car sounded on the road. Sebastian shot up the path and crouched down as it passed above him. It wasn’t Barbara’s sturdy rental, and it wasn’t Plato’s shiny black car.
Lucy dropped low. “Did you see who it was?”
He eased back down to her and placed the cell phone in her hand. “It’s Mowery. Lucy, he has Jack.” He curved her stiff fingers around the phone. “Call the local police. Tell them they’ve got a probable hostage situation with a U.S. senator. Have them get in touch with the Capitol Police.”
“Jack—was he okay—did he look—”
“He was in the passenger seat. He looked fine.”
She nodded. “Should I tell Plato?”
“If he’s still there. If not, get your butt over to the police station or a friend’s house and stay put.” He smiled grimly, a glint of humor coming into his eyes. “Not that I’d tell you what to do.”
“Under the circumstances, feel free. What about you? If Mowery’s bent on revenge, you’ll just be playing into his hands. You don’t even have a gun.”
But he’d already slipped into the woods, off the path. Lucy watched him make his way around a huge boulder and disappear. She quickly retraced her steps down the path, dialing the police as she went. She got patched through to Larry, the chief of police, and gave him the facts as succinctly as she could. “I’m on my way back to my house,” she said.
“Good. Stay there.”
“For God’s sake, don’t come up here with guns blazing. This guy will kill my father-in-law.”
“Jesus Christ,” Larry said. “All right, I’ll meet you at your place. Where you live, it’s going to be a while before we can get there.”
“I know. I’ll be okay.”
She disconnected and picked up her pace, coming soon to the stone wall on the far edge of the field. Plato materialized out of nowhere and caught her around the middle. “Lucy.” Blood poured down the side of his head. He’d ripped off his suit coat, and blood had soaked through his white shirt; the fabric on his upper right arm was torn. He was sweating and ashen-faced, and he was heavily armed. “Lucy, she’s got Madison, maybe J.T., too, by now.”
“Oh, no. Oh, God.” Lucy held on to him, pushed back the panic. “You mean Barbara? Where?”
“Waterfall. She shot the shit out of me. I’m going to pass out. Call the police.” He grimaced, catching his breath. “Where’s Sebastian?”
“He took off.”
“Good.”
Lucy shook her head. “Mowery’s got my father-in-law.”
Plato sank into the ferns growing up close to the stone wall. “Shit.”
“The police are on their way. Go meet them.”
“Your kids—”
“You’re in no condition to help them, and you don’t know the way. I’ll go. I know a shortcut from here to the falls.”
“I screwed up,” Plato said. “I didn’t realize Madison knew Barbara, liked her. I should have.”
“I didn’t think to tell you. I’m sorry.”
“Luckily the bitch is a lousy shot.”
Lucy quickly checked his wounds. They were unpleasant, but she didn’t believe they were life-threatening. She shoved the cell phone at him. “I just called the police. Call them again. Can you make it back to the house? You’ll be okay?”
He pushed her toward the path. “Go. The woman’s a nut. Be careful. Buy time for the police to get here.” He held up his gun—a black, sleek thing—with a shaking, blood-spattered hand. “Take this.”
“And do what with it?”
The barest ghost of a smile as he dropped the gun. “You’re right. You’ll just shoot your foot off. Now, go.”
* * *
Barbara’s legs ached from the steep climb up to Joshua Falls. “You’ll see your mother doesn’t care about you. You’ll see.”
Madison was still defiant. “My mother never held a gun on us.”
“She’s done far worse. If she hadn’t brainwashed you against me, I wouldn’t have to hold a gun on you. It’s her fault. And I’m just doing this for your own good. You have to see what she’s done to you.”
This time, Madison kept her mouth shut. She was even worse now that they had J.T. with them. Barbara had caught him hiding in the back of the barn. She’d had to fire at him. He got the point. He hadn’t said a word since. He was scared. Brainwashed. Barbara would make sure he and Madison both got appropriate therapy in Washington. She didn’t want them to have lasting scars from what their mother had done to them.
Yes, she thought, she could see a future for herself. She would take care of Colin’s children, Jack’s grandchildren. She would see to their upbringing, their education. She would raise them the way Swifts should be raised.
Lucy’s fault they were frightened and defiant now. All Lucy’s fault.
She could hear the water rushing over the falls. The rain had started, a steady, cold drizzle. Madison and J.T. didn’t seem to notice. Country bumpkins.
J.T. slipped on a wet rock and skinned his knee, but he scrambled back to his feet and didn’t complain. Barbara was pleased. He was stoic, like his father and grandfather. “Good boy.”
“Just keep going, J.T.,” Madison whispered to him. “It’ll be okay. I promise. I won’t let her hurt you.”
Barbara resisted the impulse to strike the girl. “You sound like your mother. Don’t fill the boy with negative ideas about me, poison him against me.”
“I don’t need to poison him against you. You’ve poisoned him yourself!”
That mouth. Barbara gritted her teeth and called upon her heroic self-discipline. She remembered her purpose. They had to see the truth. Both these children did.
“All right.” They’d reached the top of the falls; the rain was steadier now. And colder, autumn-like. She preferred Washington heat to this dank misery. She nodded to the children. “Stop. Now, listen. Madison, I want you to take the rope.” She tossed the length of rope she’d removed from Lucy’s supply room. “If you do anything stupid, I will shoot you or your brother—possibly both of you, if it’s really stupid. Do you understand?”
The girl nodded, pale, the rain glistening on her coppery hair. Barbara liked its color. So pretty. They’d have to get it trimmed at a good salon.
She pointed to the rope. “Take it and tie one end around your waist. Your mother taught you knot tying, I assume? I hope so. You won’t want to get this wrong.”
“Let J.T. go,” Madison said, shivering now as she tied the rope around her waist. “This is all my fault, he didn’t do anything. If I hadn’t tackled him, Plato would have shot you. J.T. didn’t know anything—”
Barbara waved her gun. “Tie the rope.”
J.T. stood on the rock ledge, trembling and sobbing. Oh, Lucy, Barbara thought, look what you’ve done to your little boy!
Madison secured the rope. She tested it, and even Barbara, who admittedly knew nothing about knots, could see it was tight. “Very good,” she said. “Thank you for cooperating. You’ll see I’m a fair-minded, disciplined professional. Now, tie the rope around that tree right there.” She pointed with her gun at a thick, misshapen hemlock, its roots growing out over the abyss of the waterfall. “Be careful. Don’t slip.”
“Why do you want—”
“Just do it.”
The girl nodded. The rain had soaked through her shirt and shorts and was making her shiver even more. She crouched down and tied the rope to the tree.
“I thought about getting a rock-climbing line with one of those harness things,” Barbara said, “but I think this will do. It’s more dramatic. You’ll see.” She leaned forward, over Madison’s shoulder. “Don’t dawdle.”
“You’ve made your point.” Madison looked up at her, her blue eyes and spray of freckles heart-stoppingly like Colin’s, like Jack’s. “My mother’s awful. I hate her.”
Barbara smiled. “I know, love. I know. Now, lower yourself over the edge.”
“First let J.T. go.”
“Madison, you’re not in charge. I am. I’ve been doing the bidding of the Swifts for twenty years. It’s my turn.” She stood up straight, ignoring the rain pelting down on them, and leveled the gun at the girl. “Now lower yourself over the falls.”
Barbara stepped back while Madison dutifully stood up and eased herself to the edge of the hemlock’s twisted, gnarled roots. She took a breath, so pale, and gave herself more length on the rope. She tugged at it, making sure the end on the tree held.
“Don’t take forever,” Barbara said. “If you make me push you, it’ll hurt more. The rope will cut into you. You’ll smash into the rock.”
The girl nodded. “I know. I’m just a little scared. My stupid mother should be here.”
“Yes, yes, that’s right.”
Madison edged her heels out over the abyss. Barbara could hear the water rushing, swirling beneath them. She wasn’t quite sure how long the rope was, but she thought it wouldn’t reach the water. Madison would dangle several feet above the deep, cold pool. She and Barbara would just have to take it from there.
What to do about J.T.?
“Madison, don’t,” he cried. “Don’t.”
Such a big baby, Barbara thought. They’d have to work on that. It was good for him to see his older sister be brave in the face of adversity.
“J.T., listen to me.”
Madison’s voice was calm and intense, and Barbara expected she was rallying her brother to the cause. Instead, she swooped out from the edge of the roots, kicked herself off the tree and used her momentum to carry herself toward Barbara. She kicked wildly, knocking Barbara flat onto her behind. Her gun went flying.
“Run, J.T., run! Get Mom! Go, go, go.”
Barbara pushed the monster off her. The cold rain made her slippery. “I trusted you!”
“My brother’s smarter and faster than you are, you bitch.”
Barbara recoiled, seeing this stupid girl for what she was. Poisoned. Too far gone. She caught the rope with both hands and pulled hard, shoving Madison back to the edge of the ledge. The girl kicked and fought and struggled, but Barbara was too strong, too furious for her to prevail.
She went down fast. Barbara could see her trying to get her balance to rappel, but she banged against the rock wall, hitting her arm and shoulder. She yelled out in pain.
“It serves you right,” Barbara called down to her.
She sank onto the wet ground. Her hands and wrists were rope-burned, stinging and bleeding as if she’d been in a violent tug-of-war. She was exhausted, but she remembered the boy. She had to rally, find him.
She reached backward, feeling for her gun, rain pouring into her eyes.
Lucy. Holding Barbara’s gun. The rain pelted down on her. “You’d better pray my daughter isn’t badly hurt.”
Barbara saw the fear in Lucy’s eyes. It wasn’t fear for Madison. It was a selfish fear—fear for herself and what she would lose. From the way she held the gun, it was obvious she didn’t know how to use it. She peered over the falls.
“Mom,” Madison sobbed, “oh, Mom, thank God!”
Barbara sighed. She was right. The girl was lost.
“Are you hurt?” Lucy called. “Can you find a handhold?”
“My arm. I think it’s broken.”
Lucy glared at Barbara, her .38 steady. “Why? What did she ever do to you?”
“Not her,” Barbara said. “You.”
“Jesus,” a man’s voice said behind them. She looked up, and Plato, bloodied and soaked, fell against a hemlock. “You’re one sick puppy, you know that?”
Lucy was obviously relieved to see him. Of course, Barbara thought. A man to the rescue. Lucy nodded to the rope still tied around the tree. “Madison’s hanging over the falls. I have to get her out. J.T.—did you see him?”
Plato shook his head. “Lucy, all hell’s breaking loose down at your house. Cops’re everywhere. We can get a rescue team up here to pull her out.”
“Call Rob. He’s the best.” She peered down at her daughter, the rain easing to a drizzle. “Madison, how’s the rope? Will it hold?”
“Mom, I can’t hang on. My arm. I can’t.”
Barbara was disgusted at the girl’s whining. “I could have killed you and Madison when I had the chance,” she told Plato.
“Well, you didn’t. It’s okay, Lucy,” he said softly. “I’ve got a gun on our Ms. Allen. She’s not going anywhere.”
Lucy placed the .38 next to the hemlock root and dropped onto her hands and knees. She hung herself partially out over the rain-soaked ledge, inspecting, as if she knew what she was looking at. Barbara wasn’t impressed. This was all for show.
“Madison.” Lucy cleared her throat. “Here’s the situation. I can’t come down there and get you, not without equipment. I wouldn’t do you any good. And I don’t have the strength to pull you up by myself. Plato’s here, but he’s injured. You can either wait for Rob, or you can try to work your way up a little higher, then I can help.”
“I can’t. My arm hurts.”
“What about your other arm? Use it and your feet. Find hand and footholds. Steady yourself.”
Barbara sniffed. “Of course, you’re too much of a coward to go after her yourself.”
“You know, Ms. Allen,” Plato said, dropping down beside her. He was a bloody mess. “Seeing how you’ve shot me twice today, I wouldn’t do or say one damn thing that’s going to piss me off. Right now, consider yourself lucky I’m good with pain.”
“You wouldn’t shoot me. You’re a professional. You only shoot to kill.”
“I’m right-handed. You shot me in my right arm. Holding a gun in my left hand—who knows?—it could just go off and put a bullet in your bitching leg.”
“I loathe your kind,” Barbara said.
“Yeah, you hold that thought. What’s your pal Mowery up to?”
Barbara snapped her mouth shut. She wished it would stop raining. It was so damn cold.
“That’s it,” Lucy was saying, still hanging over the falls. “One step at a time. God, I’d give anything to be there instead of you.”
“Tell her to pretend her injured arm got cut off,” Plato said. “That’s what I did with my leg when I got hurt.”
Lucy glanced at him dubiously. “Thanks, Plato. She’s doing fine.”
Barbara could feel the cold of the rock seeping into her, the dankness of the day. She held herself stiff against shaking and shivering. In another minute, Lucy was pulling on the rope with all her might. Plato transferred his gun into his right hand, his wince of pain barely detectable. He edged over to the tree, grabbed the rope with his left arm and pulled, adding his strength to Lucy’s.
Madison came up and collapsed into her mother’s arms, sobbing. “J.T.,” she said. “I told him to run. Is he all right? Oh, God, this is all my fault!”
“It’s not your fault, Madison. You’re fifteen.”
Plato touched Lucy’s shoulder. “Go ahead. Cops’ll be here in no time. Find your kid.”
Barbara sighed. Of course, of course. Lucy would abandon the daughter for the sake of the son. Of course.
* * *
Sebastian had the situation under control, if not to his liking. He was tucked behind a nice, fat sofa inside the house Barbara Allen had rented. Darren Mowery and Jack Swift were out on the screened porch, discussing her.
“Barbie made up the affair with Colin just to get back at you,” Mowery said. “And you fell for it. Makes you feel kind of stupid, doesn’t it?”
“Where is she now?”
“My guess, she’s making Lucy’s life miserable. Hates her guts. Totally obsessed with her. Amazing. Miss Super-Professional with a deep, dark secret.”
“You used her. You manipulated her.”
“Don’t feel sorry for her.”
“I don’t,” Jack said.
“Sebastian Redwing hasn’t done you much good, has he?”
“If I’d told him the truth from the beginning—”
“Yeah, well. You didn’t.”
Sebastian didn’t plan on letting them leave. He’d already disabled Mowery’s car. A clump of mud in the exhaust pipe did the trick. Now, he would wait. So far, Mowery hadn’t made a move against the senator. If he did, Sebastian would act. If he saw his window of opportunity, he’d act. Otherwise, he’d wait for Larry and the Capitol police to get there. Whichever came first was fine with him. With the situation stable, he had no intention of lighting a fuse.
Then J.T. came screaming up out of the woods. “Grandpa! Grandpa!” He pounded up the deck steps. “She’s got Madison!”
Sebastian reacted instantly, shooting out through the sliding glass door onto the deck. He had to get to J.T. before Mowery did, even if it meant he’d lost his advantage. He grabbed J.T. The boy was hysterical, traumatized, gulping for air. He clawed Sebastian’s arms. “J.T.,” he said. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“Madison—we have to save her. Barbara’s going to kill her. She hung her over the waterfall. She’ll cut the rope. Sebastian!”
Sebastian stayed between the boy and the screened porch, where he knew Mowery would be quickly calculating his options. “Listen to me, J.T. Go back down the road. Run your ass off, you hear me? Your mother will be looking for you.”
Being Lucy’s son, he argued. “Grandpa—”
“I’ll take care of your grandfather. Go, J.T. Trust me. Your mother will be there.” That much Sebastian knew. Lucy would be there for her kids.
“Well, well, well,” Mowery said behind them. “Daddy Redwing.”
Sebastian stayed focused on the boy. He grabbed J.T. up and dumped him off the deck, several feet to the ground. J.T. scrambled to his feet, and yelled, “Grandpa! He’s got a gun!”
Jack Swift pushed away from Mowery and leaned over the rail. “Run, J.T. I’ll be fine. Go.”
J.T. hesitated, then darted into the woods, down the hill, moving fast. He was twelve and energetic, and he knew the woods. Sebastian had done his job. J.T. wasn’t in Mowery’s hands.
“What?” Mowery said. “You two think I’d shoot a kid?”
“I know you would,” Sebastian said, turning to Mowery. The minute he’d heard J.T., Sebastian knew Mowery had him. He had a gun, a Glock. “It didn’t used to be that way.”
“Sure it did, you just never noticed. And I wouldn’t shoot a kid in the back. In the head, as part of a business arrangement, only if necessary. I’m not a fucking monster.”
Jack Swift, gray and breathing hard, collapsed against the deck rail. “I can’t—if anything happens to Madison or J.T. I don’t think I could go on.”
Mowery snorted. “Enough votes, you’ll go on.” He walked over to the senator and put the Glock at his temple. “No whining, okay? I need to think.”
“Darren.” Sebastian didn’t move; he was centered, focused. Plato was right. This was work he knew, even if he’d come to hate it and distrust himself. “You’re on a dead-end road. I’ve disabled your car. The local police are probably here by now. The Capitol Police are on their way. Everyone’s coming. Let Jack go and get out now while you can.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re good. You know my first priority is saving the senator and his family. This is your best chance to get away.”
“Sebastian, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m the only one here with a gun. Suppose I just shoot you both and take off?”
“If you’d wanted to shoot me, you could have come out to my place in Wyoming and shot me in my hammock.” Sebastian sat on an Adirondack chair and stretched out his legs. “You don’t just want me dead, Darren. You want me ruined, the way I ruined you. You want me to suffer, the way you’ve suffered.”
“I want the senator dead. I want Lucy and her kids dead and you held responsible, ridiculed, run out of business.”
“Well, Darren. If you shoot both the senator and me, you have no hostages left. Then what? You’re still on a dead-end road with no car.”
“Up on your feet.”
Sebastian did as instructed. He wondered where Lucy was, what had happened to Plato if Madison was dangling from Joshua Falls and J.T. was tearing through the woods on his own.
Mowery got Swift to stand beside Sebastian, then he marched them both off the deck. Sebastian wasn’t too worried. He figured he had about ten minutes to figure something out before J.T. found Lucy, and all hell broke loose.
* * *
Lucy charged down the path from the falls, slipping in the wet pine needles, oblivious to her fatigue, the pain in her side from running.
“Mom!”
“J.T.” She sank onto her knees, caught him in her arms as he almost ran over her. “Are you all right?”
“Sebastian,” he croaked. “Grandpa. Mom!”
She realized he was incapable of talking. He was out of breath, in shock. “It’s going to be okay, J.T. The police are on their way. Come on.”
She half carried, half pulled him up the path back to the falls. Plato, pale and bloody, had two guns on Barbara Allen, his and hers. Madison was shivering next to him, cradling her arm in pain, not looking at the woman who’d nearly killed her.
Lucy knew that, for her children’s sake, she had to appear to have command of the situation. She urged J.T. down next to Madison. “Sit here by your sister. Don’t move. Don’t look at Barbara.”
“Mom, that man had a gun pointed at Grandpa,” J.T. said breathlessly. “And Sebastian—he—he was right there.”
“Don’t think about it. Just think about breathing.” She put her palm on his chest. He was wet and cold with rain, terrified. “In, out. Come on, J.T. Think about it. Breathe in, breathe out. Slow and controlled.”
But he whimpered like a lost puppy, and her heart broke. Madison, gray-faced, fell back on a bed of hemlock needles as she dealt with her terror and the pain of her injuries.
Lucy steeled herself against her own rush of emotions. She had to think. “Plato, I need to borrow one of the guns.”
“Better idea.” His voice was soothing, steady, professional. “You stay here, I go with the gun.”
She shook her head. “You won’t get three steps before you pass out.”
He smiled feebly. “Bet I get six steps.”
“Plato...”
“Go, kid.” He flipped her Barbara’s gun, barrel first, and kept his. “Mine’s high-tech. You’ll shoot up the woods with it. You know how to pull the trigger?”
“I think so.” She felt the weight of the gun in her hand. “I’ve seen a lot of movies. Is there a safety or anything? Do I have to cock it?”
Plato looked at her with his bloodshot eyes. “Just pull the fucking trigger.”
Lucy nodded. “I will if I have to.”
“And trust Sebastian.” Plato cleared his throat; he was weak, in need of medical attention. “He does things in his own time, and in his own way. Trust him, Lucy.”
“If he’s renounced violence—”
“He’s renounced gratuitous violence. If Mowery’s got a gun on him and a senator, we’re not talking gratuitous. Lucy, if Sebastian can’t go through a brick wall, he’ll go around it. He’ll find a way.”
She blinked back tears. “I hope you’re right.”
J.T. shivered violently. His lips were purple, and dark circles had formed under his eyes. “Mom, don’t go. I’m scared.”
Lucy looked at her son and daughter. Their father was dead, their grandfather was being held hostage. If something happened to her, Madison and J.T. would end up in Costa Rica with her parents. She couldn’t be reckless or take unnecessary chances. It wasn’t a question of courage. It was a question of responsibility.
She had to trust Sebastian, the way she’d had to trust Madison to get herself into a position from which Lucy could pull her up out of the falls.
“I love him,” she said to Plato. “Sebastian. I love him.”
Plato leaned against his rock. “I don’t know which one of you has it worse. Sebastian, loving you, or you loving Sebastian. You’re both a couple of stiff-necked pains in the ass.”
Lucy smiled and bit back tears. “I’ll go down and meet the police, make sure they get the rescue squad up here.”
He nodded, satisfied, too spent to talk.
“J.T. can come with me. You up to it, kiddo?”
He sniffled and put his hand in hers, and she kissed her daughter and told her it wouldn’t be much longer. “Hang in there, okay?”
Madison didn’t open her eyes. “Sure, Mom.”
Barbara Allen didn’t say a word, didn’t acknowledge Lucy’s presence or her own imminent arrest.
Plato was sinking fast. He managed one last smile. “Tell your local yokels to hurry it up. I’m about ready to push Ms. Barbara here over the falls and call it a day.”
In spite of his fatigue and terror, J.T. kept up with Lucy. She took the path to the dirt road, assuming the police would come that way instead of along the brook path.
When they emerged onto the dirt road, J.T. gasped and tightened his grip on his mother’s hand. Then she saw, too. Just down the road, Jack and Sebastian were walking a few feet ahead of another man who she presumed was Darren Mowery.
“That’s him,” J.T. whispered. “That’s the man—”
Lucy bent down to him. “Go back and tell Plato.”
Plato was in no condition to help, she knew, but he could hold on to her son. J.T. hesitated. She gave him an encouraging hug, and he summoned his last reserves of energy and ran back up the path.
Mowery must have heard them or sensed their presence. He half turned to her. “Put the gun down, Lucy, or I shoot Sebastian.”
She’d almost forgotten she had a gun. She glanced up the path. She raised it. “If you shoot Sebastian, I’ll shoot you.”
Sebastian eased around slowly, without a word, and Jack inhaled sharply. Lucy didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t a marksman. She hated guns. She held her breath, met Sebastian’s eyes just for an instant. He didn’t speak. He didn’t give her even the smallest sign as to what she should do.
Mowery moved, and she fired.
Blood spurted from his right buttock, and he swore viciously. Sebastian pounced, tackling Mowery with blinding efficiency and ferocity, knocking the gun from his hand as if he’d been waiting for just this moment, just this mistake.
Jack snatched up the gun. Lucy kept Barbara’s gun pointed in their direction, in case she was misreading the situation and Sebastian wasn’t winning.
Sebastian pushed Mowery facedown on the ground and yanked his hands behind his back in what looked like a professional hold. He shook his head at her. “You shot him in the ass?”
“I guess I did.”
“Lucy, for God’s sake. You don’t shoot someone in the ass. If you’re in a situation that requires you to fire your weapon, you’re shooting to kill.”
“I was shooting to shoot. It’s not like I was aiming!”
“Well, hell. That makes me feel better.” He motioned to her with one hand. “You want to lower that baby, then?”
She lowered the gun. She knew Sebastian was half teasing, half lecturing to keep her mind off what she’d just done—how close they’d all come. She saw how serious his eyes were. “Did you have the situation under control?” she asked.
“No.” He grinned. “But I was working on it.”
Jack handed Mowery’s gun to Sebastian and turned to his daughter-in-law. “Lucy,” he sobbed. “Oh, God, Lucy.”
“The kids are okay.” Suddenly tears were streaming down her face. “Madison, J.T.—they’re okay.”
Sebastian held the gun on Mowery, moaning in pain. “Go, you two.” He spoke to Lucy and Jack without looking at them. “Go to your kids.”
Lucy walked over to him, the dirt road squishy under her feet. The rain had stopped altogether now; the air was close and yet refreshing, as if it had been washed clean. Her eyes met Sebastian’s. His were still deadly serious. This, she reminded herself, was his job, work he knew how to do—work that had brought her to him in the first place.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.
“You mean, am I going to put a bullet in Mowery’s head the minute you and Jack turn your backs?” He gave her a ragged smile. “I’m the one who renounced violence, remember?”
Lucy managed a smile back. “Well, don’t tell him that.”
“Go on. I’ll get Mr. Mowery to the police. No loose ends this time.”
Jack took her hand, and together they walked up to the falls. She told him what Barbara had done.
“My God, Lucy.” His voice cracked, tears spilled down his wrinkled cheeks. He squeezed her hand. “I had no idea. I didn’t put it together. I should have spoken up sooner.”
“Water over the dam now, Jack. We both made mistakes.”
“I’m shattered,” he said, “and I’m stunned. I never expected this. Never, not in a million years. I’d have done anything—anything—to spare you and the kids this ordeal.”
“I know you would. That’s the hardest thing, isn’t it?” She pictured her injured daughter, her terrified son. “Realizing no matter how much you want to, how hard you try, you can’t protect your kids from life.”
“It is. It’s the hardest thing.” He tucked his hand into hers. “But you’ve given Madison and J.T. the skills they need, the good judgment. Lucy, when I saw J.T. running up those steps straight at Mowery—”
She shuddered. “It’s over, Jack. It worked out.”
“Thank God.”
As they came to a curve in the path, Lucy glanced back. Sebastian was in the same position, alone with his gun drawn over an enemy who had once been his friend.
“He won’t shoot him,” Jack assured her.
“No,” Lucy said, “he won’t. But I think it’s how he likes life best, don’t you? Alone with a gun on a bad guy.”
“Actually, no. I think he likes life best with you. I think he has for a long, long time.” Her father-in-law pulled her arm around him and hugged her fiercely. “It just wasn’t possible until now.”